Human (Nature)

The quiet of the storm has passed. Rushing gales twist into tumultuous waves, whispering beautiful lies The trees that danced in evening breeze now hail the violent night as they beseech, whispering beautiful lies.

We lay side by side in bed, face to face, eyes closed– sharing each breath in the empty space between us both; We speak through imagined caresses and thinly veiled not-quite touches, just keep whispering beautiful lies.

We wish on stars burnt out eons ago. We sit on the edge of an extending galaxy, drifting. In our hearts our hope is frail, so these celestial beings gently linger on, whispering beautiful lies.

She slips the needle deeper, aching for that ecstasy, her own brand of hellish nirvana, some rapture; Dangling off her devotional inner arm is a holy grail, this bronze God whispering beautiful lies.

Twilight teases the horizon, let’s slip peeks at rosy flesh beneath the dark; a pretty little coy blush. Warmth erecting with the morning’s a sated tale; the lusty dawn groans to light, whispering beautiful lies.

He wallows at the reflecting self-proclaimed filth. His skin is sin wrapped around impious carnality. His inclinations are wholly male. He says he doesn’t want; his reflection is whispering beautiful lies.

Morning is equal parts glory, equal parts humiliation; the day brings to light all of our shames. But the great Sun in its perch never fails to rise! It runs, exhausted, looks down, whispering beautiful lies.

My sister birthed my nephew, a cute ugly pink little thing; the fresh-out-of college man up my street was shot. Everyone’s a casualty; breathe in. Are we Jekyll or Hyde? Exhale. We ask for answers but keep whispering beautiful lies

The evening makes jewels of the sky, casts the glass sun into some saintly maiden the clouds dare not encroach. The day fights to live– to no avail; the violent night returns, always, again, whispering beautiful lies.

My name is “blessed”, “star of the sea”, but my mother says I’m diminutive; not a meaning, but derived. Fue accidente, mom sighs, pale skin blooming with bruises; This is love. She won’t stop whispering beautiful lies.